The Marshall Boy

Eighteen.

Eighteen.
Jessica.
Two Years Earlier...

My anger is bubbling over the top. Granted, I do let my anger get the best of me a lot of times: but this time it's a matter worth getting very furious about. I bang on the door to his apartment, and as soon as he answers the door, clad in only his underwear, I shove him inside.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I scream at him, as my blood boils.

Nate rubs his tired eyes, then looks at me. "What?"

"You made an Instagram account under your first name! Are you trying to get us caught?" I shout, and he shakes his head as he plops down on his leather couch.

"We won't get caught." He assures as he turns on his TV. I want to scream as I grab up the remote and turn it back off.

"I know this is all a big game to you, but this is serious to me! I can't lose Blake." I shout at him, my fear prominent. He looks up at me, and his eyes soften.

"You don't need Blake." He tells me, as he stands.

"Yes, I do." I argue, and he picks up a piece of my hair and twirls it between his fingers.

"No, you can be with me." He offers, and I scoff.

"You wouldn't leave Marlee." I counter, and he shrugs.

"I would if you'd leave Blake."

My heart stops beating in my chest. He'd leave Marlee if I left Blake? How could he say that?

"You love Marlee." I state, my heart hurting.

"I love you too." His eyes meet mine, and there's something stuck in my throat.

"No," I whisper. "You don't."

His arms wrap around me, and he meets my eyes. "I do."

He kisses me gently, and I was wrong, we don't have this under control. We screwed up.